"Stop scaring her."
Alistair shot Quentin a glacial glare.
Realizing his mistake, Quentin immediately shut his mouth.
Alistair bent down and swept her into his arms. Vanessa instinctively clutched the fabric of his shirt.
"Alistair, my friend..."
"Relax. Just because the police didn't find her doesn't mean she's dead. She might have made it out safely. She'll reach out to you soon."
Alistair's dark eyes fell to her hands. Catching sight of the bloody scrapes on her palm, a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.
"Let go."
He reached out, gently prying her fingers open.
Only then did Vanessa realize that in her panic, she had been gripping Seraphina's shattered phone so tightly that glass shards had dug deeply into her flesh without her noticing.
Now that he pointed it out, a sharp, stinging pain began to spread across her palm.
Quentin drove, and half an hour later, the car pulled up to a suburban villa.
"Why did you bring me here? I need to find Seraphina."
Vanessa struggled, trying to get out of his arms.
Alistair's tone was calm but carried an unquestionable dominance.
"If you keep moving, I won't help you find her."
Those words instantly made her freeze.
She knew perfectly well that with his connections, he could locate her friend much faster than she ever could on her own.
Alistair let out a low chuckle and carried her into the house.
His movements were entirely devoid of gentleness as he unceremoniously dropped her onto the sofa.
Vanessa was speechless.
Why did it feel like this arrogant man was angry?
What right did he have to be angry?

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